Which Side Are You On?
by CharlesTheBold
Summary: Joan and Adam find that one of their missions from God is endangering some of their friendships at their college. PLEASE REVIEW
1. Outside of town

**WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?**

_(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with JOAN OF ARCADIA. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it. _

_(Author's Note: This story is part of a series that takes place in the period after the show ended. A listing of the other stories is on my profile. As far as this story is concerned, the major changes are that Joan and Adam are married and are freshmen at a small college; Adam is in on Joan's secret_

_(This story is set in November, 2006)._

**Chapter 1**

**Outside of Town**

"Better enjoy the view while you can," said a sour voice.

Adam turned around in surprise. He was sitting on a fence that bordered a farm, a mile or so outside Baconia, and he was sketching the horses. It was November in Pennsylvania, and soon it would be too cold to do this sort of outside task – no matter how he bundled up, his hands would be either too cold or too restrained by gloves to do detail work. He wasn't sure how he was going to use the horses in an artwork, but Helen Girardi, his former art teacher and now his mother-in-law, had advised him to accumulate any image that intrigued him in a sketch-book so that it could be used later. He had only portrayed horses twice, and one didn't really count – he and Joan had been on a mission that involved getting the attention of a young equestrienne.

The sour voice belonged to Agnes Mertz, a girl with whom he had worked on a drama project the previous month. She had a rather combative personality, but Adam didn't let that bother him. He had had years of practice, dealing with Grace Polonski.

"My wife's picking me up in – let me see – less than half an hour," observed Adam, looking at his watch. "But I suppose that's not what you meant when you said 'while you can'."

"Nope. Haven't you heard the news? The real estate company that owns the land has decided to sell it to the Axme Corporation to build a factory on it."

"Too bad."

"Too bad? It's terrible!" Agnes started gesturing with her hands and her voice grew louder. "To start with, old Thompson will have to find somewhere else to pasture his horses, or get out of the horse-raising business altogether. He can't possibly outbid the Axme Corporation. But on a far deeper level, it'll ruin the atmosphere of the town. Pollution, traffic jams--."

Adam reflected that it would also create jobs, and leave the town less dependent on the university for all its employment. His father was what used to be called a blue-color worker, and Adam himself realized that he might sometimes have to get a day job, so he was sensitive to things like where jobs were. But he didn't want to argue, so he just kept quiet, as usual. "Mr. Thompson didn't tell me about that, when I asked permission to sketch his land."

"No, he's the stoic type. But I'm not. I want to fight this."

"But if the real estate company owns the land, I suppose there's not much anybody can do to stop the sale," observed Adam.

"Yeah. Still, there's a matter of public opinion. The real estate company is in town, and if we can organize enough opposition, they might back down."

She took a camera out of her pocket and snapped a picture of the horse pasture. "I'll show it around, try to show people what they're losing. Say, why don't you just photograph the scene and sketch it back home where it's warmer?"

"Photographs don't work well for me. Dunno why. I need something that appeals to all my senses – in this case, not just the sight of the horses, but the sound of the neighing, the feel of the wind, the sense of movement—"

"The smell of the dung."

"Um, yeah."

"There's something in that. A mere photo of the site may not work; but I have an idea for something more dramatic. I'm glad that I ran into you here; maybe you can--"

They were interrupted by the sound of the Roves' rented car approaching. Joan pulled off on the side of the road and got out. "Hi, Agnes. Not stealing my hubby, are you?"

"No, but I'm trying to recruit him."

"For what?"

"Let me explain." Agnes went into the story of the property sale and the factory again. Joan, in spite of her reputation for throwing herself into projects, seemed rather aloof and uninvolved. Of course the reputation was misleading; what Joan was really doing was going on missions for God. "Do you think Adam could help draw up a publicity poster?"

"Why ask me? It's up to Adam."

"Well, I was thinking of getting myself costumed – or rather uncostumed -- as Lady Godiva."

"What?!"

"Lady Godiva rode naked—"

"I know who Lady Godiva was! Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"Sex sells, doesn't it? Godiva is the original nude-protester. Every male on campus will want to stare at the poster, and then they'll read the message."

"That's not how the Godiva story went," said Adam, who had read a book of legends as inspiration for his art. "She didn't WANT to be seen; she had made a bet with her husband—"

"Yeah, yeah, that doesn't matter. But I can't ask Adam to draw me naked without running it by you, Joan. You're his wife."

"Um, let me think about it a while, OK?"

"OK. Now I better get back to my car; it's getting cold."

"All right, see you later." Agnes walked off, and the Roves stared at each other.

"It's been a weird day," said Adam. "I started off sketching a peaceful pastoral scene, and then a casual friends walks up and asks me to draw her _au naturel_ for a local political campaign."

Joan giggled. "Didn't some famous pastoral paintings have naked women in them, pretending to be nymphs or goddesses or something?"

"Some, but that's not relevant. I'll just turn her down, Jane. I don't want to put you on the spot. It's not as if this was a mission from God —"

There was a sound of methodic hoofbeats from the pasture. Somebody was riding up. Adam turned to see an attractive and athletic young woman on a horse.

"Speak of the devil," said Joan.

The equestrienne laughed. "Not precisely."

"So you're –" Adam began, then hesitated, not wanting to give away the secret if this was an ordinary woman.

"Adam, meet Cowgirl God," said Joan. She did not bother to do the reverse introduction; God knew everybody. "I met Her here a couple of months ago, right on this spot. So, I presume You've come to tell us to help Agnes?"

"No," said God. "I want you to stop her campaign."

"You WANT them to build that factory?" asked Joan, confused.

"Let's just say that there are bad ripples involved." As always, God was vague.

"Can you give me a reason that I can give to her?"

"Not unless she understands foreknowledge of the future." Cowgirl God pulled on the reins with one hand to turn Her horse's head around, and waved with the other.

"Well, this will be easy," said Adam. "I'll just turn Agnes down, saying that sketching a friend naked would be too awkward."

Joan sighed. "Missions never turn out to be that easy."

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Confrontation on a Sidewalk

**WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?**

**Chapter 2 **

**Confrontation on the Sidewalk**

"Hey, Joan!"

Joan turned around on the college path to see who was calling her. "Hi, Elizabeth."

"Haven't seen you since the play."

"No, I've been rather busy." God had sent her on some difficult missions recently. One had to do with a smuggling ring, and the other was mollifying her sister-in-law Lily, who had just learned Joan's secret and was a bit jealous. But she couldn't say that to Elizabeth.

"I heard you got kidnapped. Must have been exciting."

"Exciting is when it happens to somebody else. I was terrified."

"Do you think they'll make a movie out of it somebody?"

"Dunno." Neither Joan nor Ryan Hunter had wanted to discuss the real issue behind the kidnapping: his attempt to prove to Joan that God didn't care what happened to her. Media people wanting the full story must have been confused.

"If they did, who would you want to play you?"

"I sort of like Amber Tamblyn. But I really don't want to dwell on that incident, Elizabeth."

"Sorry." That was characteristic of Elizabeth: she liked drama, but she could also be quite sympathetic to a real-world problem. "OK, there's something else I'd like to talk about. I ran into Agnes yesterday. She said she had asked Adam to do a poster of her as Lady Godiva, but you guys turned her down."

"Yeah. It's about a plan to build a factory outside of town, and I'm not too interested. The transaction seems legitimate; it's not like one of those corrupt schemes we used to see in Arcadia."

"You don't see it as Agnes does. Her mom is a professor in the school, and she grew up here. She loves the small-town atmosphere. And she's seen weird student protests all her life, so she decided to create one herself."

"In that case, I hope she isn't too mad at us." Joan felt a little twinge of remorse, but remembered God's warning.

"No. I explained what happened when I tried to pose nude for Adam last spring – everything went wrong, even with good intentions on everybody's side. She seemed mollified."

"Thank you for doing that."

So it looked like God's agenda had been satisfied: no protest poster. But Joan's serenity was messed up by Elizabeth's next remark.

"Besides, she told me yesterday that she had thought up another gimmick for the protest. She's going to try it tomorrow."

"Huh?"

Elizabeth seemed oblivious to Joan's dismay. "Paul Revere. She decided that you don't really need to put a naked lady on a horse to get attention. Horses themselves can attract attention, if they appear where you don't expect them. Old Thompson said he'd lend her one."

"I don't follow."

"She's going to ride up and down the sidewalk in front of the real estate office, waving a protest sign and calling out her message. That's bound to get some attention."

God wasn't going to like that, though Joan still wasn't clear on what His objection was.

------------------

Joan called Agnes that night, on the pretext of thrashing out the Lady Godiva business.

"No, Joan, I'm not annoyed about dropping the nude ride idea. It's the wrong time of year for it anyway. People see a naked lady in November, and they'll probably just think Brr-rr. I came up with another idea anyway."

"Elizabeth told me. Ride a horse up and down their sidewalk and embarrass the hell out of them. But what about the logistics? If you wander into the street you may be breaking traffic laws, and if you ride on their property that may be considered trespassing, particularly if you trample on something. Either way that'll give the realtors an excuse to get you out of their way. How are you even going to turn around?"

"One of the neighboring businesses seems to have their own grudge against the realtor. They said I can use their parking lot. And there's a little park area on the other side of the block. You'll see."

"But—"

"Can't stop and chat now, Joan; I've got to pick up my "Revolutionary War" costume before the shop closes. See you tomorrow."

Joan switched off her cell and looked at Adam in dismay. "Dammit, she's going ahead with the plan. Why can't God give me a reason for stopping her? Something that I can tell her?"

"I guess we're supposed to figure that out," said Adam.

Joan sighed. "Well, there isn't much time left for that. I thought we were home free several days ago."

"Maybe if we see her tomorrow and talking her into STOPPING the protest, that'll be OK."

"Maybe."

-------

Joan and Adam looked up the address of the realtor on the internet, and walked to the street in late morning. There was already a crowd there, and after pressing through, the couple saw Agnes on horseback, clad in a blue coat and white pants. She was holding the reins with one hand, and with the other she was waving a sign saying "The Factory Is Coming", resting the handle on her shoulder. From the sound of the crowd, however, they seemed more entertained by the unusual sight of a cute equestrienne in downtown, than by the matter of the factory.

To Joan, it appeared that Agnes was not entirely comfortable in the saddle. Joan didn't know much about riding horses, but she knew how NOT to ride one: Grace's palomino had run away with her a few months early. To her, Agnes looked nervous.

After Agnes had turned around in the parking lot, and started riding the other way, the door of the realty office and a fat, middle-aged man stomped out. If Agnes looked cute, he seemed typecast for the role of The Heavy.

"You have to stop this!"

Agnes reined in her horse, which kept stamping on the pavement. "Fine. You stop the landsale, and I'll stop the protest."

"That isn't a fair arrangement. I'm making a legitimate business deal."

"And I'm making a legitimate protest."

"Legitimate, maybe, but selfish. Suppose that horse of yours makes a mess on the sidewalk? You'll be inconveniencing pedestrians for the rest of the day."

"I'll clean it up. What's worse, a little pile of horse-s*** or pollutants that get pumped in our air to stay?"

"I'm calling my lawyer and see what I can do to get you off my pavement." He stomped back in the office. Of course, what he intended as a new strategy looked to everybody else like a retreat from a confrontation. There was some clapping from the crowd, and shouts like "You go, girl!"

Encouraged, Agnes turned her horse so that she was facing the crowd. "People of Baconia! Don't let a pack of money-grubbers screw up your city! If he doesn't like my horse on his sidewalk, then let him spare the grasslands where the horses belong. Don't—"

At this point, a number of things happened at once.

Suddenly there was a deafening blare of noise from the window of the realty office. Once she recovered from the surprise, she realized that it was rock music, and a tune she actually liked.

But the unexpected noise spooked Agnes's horse. It reared up, and Agnes, caught off guard, fell backward over the tail, the sign still clutched in her hand. She hit the ground and didn't move.

A member of the crowd dashed forward and examined the girl, and that the moment the loud music stopped. The examiner called out: "Somebody call 911. She banged her head badly. She needs a hospital!"

Adam and Joan stared at each other, and said the words on both of their minds:

"The bad ripples---"

Was it an accident, or something worse?

TO BE CONTINUED

_(Author's NOTE: The kidnapping that Elizabeth mentions occurred in an earlier story, IN THE MIDST OF MINE ENEMIES. Joan's difficulties with a horse happened in another story, ANOTHER JOAN)_


	3. The Other Side

**WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?**

**Chapter 3 The Other Side**

"The school website has updated the news about Agnes," said Joan, looking at their computer. "She's regained consciousness, but they'll have to keep her in the hospital several days. Concussion."

"I'm glad she's out of serious danger."

"There's been a lot of blogs supporting Agnes today. Axme Corporation decided to pull out of the deal. They didn't want to start with so much popular opinion against them."

"So Agnes got what she wanted, though not for the reason she had in mind." Adam sounded a little bitter.

Joan buried her face in her hands. "This is my fault. If I'd stopped the protest as God said, Agnes wouldn't have fallen off the horse."

"Nonsense, Jane. There's lot of blame to go around. The real estate guy, what's his name—"

"Terrant."

"--- shouldn't have blared the radio like that. He probably thought he was just drowning out Agnes' speech. Instead he wound up spooking the horse. And Agnes screwed up too. Remember how we both noticed she wasn't seated firmly in the saddle? That sign was making her top-heavy."

"Top-heavy?"

"When the center of gravity of a system is too high, it can topple over easily. Agnes was more than a meter off the ground and the sign added another meter. Remember AP Physics?"

"Sort of. I'm surprised you did."

"I do sculptures, Jane. When you've made a beautiful work of art, the last thing you want is for it to topple over and smash into pieces. Plus there's the fact that I have photographic memory."

"So you're saying it's Agnes's fault."

"I'm saying it's a lot of people's fault, plus some improbable events. If we didn't know God, I might say it was an act of God."

"Well, judging from the blogs, everybody's blaming Terrant. The police even arrested him for frightening Agnes' horse, but his lawyer has brought a writ of _habeas corpus_ and demanded his release. And I still know that I was supposed to have stopped it somehow."

"What's done is done, Jane. Worrying about it won't help. Come on to bed, dear."

"OK. But I don't feel like—"

"All right, we won't tonight."

---

The next day, Joan and Adam happened to share a class, English 101, and so it was one of the few times that they could walk from their flat to the class building together. As they were walking down the campus' main sidewalk, they encountered Elizabeth, who looked angry.

"Hi, Joan, Adam. Did you hear --?"

"We were in the crowd yesterday."

"So was I, but I was too interested in watching Agnes to look for you. But have you heard the latest? The DA told the police last night he wouldn't press charges against Terrant. He thinks it was an accident. He explained it in a lot of legalese, but what it amounted to was 'S*** happens'. Horse-s***, I suppose. And apparently nobody can override that."

"No," said Joan, who had had AP Law in senior year of high school. "To convict somebody of a crime, you have to have charges, an indictment, and a trial with a guilty verdict, and you can do each of those only once. If the DA isn't bringing an indictment, that's the end of it." She, too, was finding some of her high school knowledge useful in practice.

"Well, it may be the end legally, but lots of people are mad at Terrant. I hear Agnes' treatment isn't covered by her parents' insurance, so he ought to pay for her care. I'm going to talk to other people, maybe organize another protest—" she walked off.

"OK, but don't try riding a horse this time," Joan called as Elizabeth walked away.

The Girardi-Roves resumed walking. "You think the DA's decision was legitimate?" asked Adam.

"Yeah, it's a matter of interpretation. Maybe Terrant just wanted to drown out Agnes' speech, as you suggested last night, and there would be no law against that. The DA would have to prove that he _intended_ the accident, or was grossly negligent, and the DA probably decided it was impossible."

They saw another group of students ahead on the sidewalk. One was a fussily dressed student in thick glasses, who looked vaguely like Luke but whom Joan had not seen before. As they went past him, he mumbled, "Too bad about the ripples, Joan."

She turned around and stared. "Nerd God. That's a new one."

"But I do fit into their environment well."

"Yeah, nice camouflage," said Joan sourly. "So, how have you come to scold me for not stopping Agnes?"

"No, Joan. As Adam said, what's done is done."

"So you've got a new mission then? Or did you just want to try out your new avatar?"

"There's a new mission. Defend Mr. Terrant."

"Huh?"

"Mr. Terrant's reputation with the community is mud right now. They blame him for frightening her horse with the radio noise. Not an offense that will hold up in a court of law, but the court of public opinion is a different manner. Particularly in a small town where everybody knows everybody else, at least by name. In the Victorian era, they used to say 'What will Mrs. Grundy think?'"

"So you want me to talk Mrs. Grundy into changing her mind?"

"Figuratively speaking."

"It's going to make people mad. Including Elizabeth. And I don't even know that many people here!"

As often happened when Joan mentioned a difficulty, Nerd God went off, this time with a cross between the usual wave and the Vulcan salute from STAR TREK.

"Now what?" asked Adam. "Considering that Mrs. Grundy doesn't really exist."

Joan sighed, not looking forward to the mission. "I guess I'll start with his lawyer."

---

She got into the lawyer's office by pretending that she had a project in her law course. In a university town, professionals were used to being besieged by students with projects or term papers, and they tried to be friendly about it. But when she brought up the real topic, his barriers went up.

"Sorry, Mrs. Girardi-Rove, I can't discuss the matter. Lawyer-client confidentiality."

"But I'm trying to help him. And besides, there's no case."

"He's still my client. But I'll give you a word of advice, Mrs. Girardi-Rove, since you may go into Law in the future. Not every accusation is subject to examination and counter-examination in a courtroom. Years ago, before you were born, a famous official in a scandal said 'I am not a crook'. He may have been correct about that, but the end result was that everybody remembers that he might have been a crook. To fight public opinion, refutation may not be the proper approach. Letting the subject die and be forgotten may be the better idea."

_But God wanted me to do something more active. _"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Personally, I admire you for trying to do the right thing. But you'll have to do it differently."

Joan opened the door, and the lawyer's receptionist, noticing that the appointment was over, said "Axme Corporation wanted you to call back, sir."

"Thank you, Judy."

He started to close the door to his office, but Joan had a last-minute idea. "Would you at least tell Mr. Terrant that I'm trying to help him? Maybe I should talk to him directly."

"Yes, I can do that," said the lawyer. "Good day." He shut the door.

Joan was about to walk out when the receptionist said, "You're a friend of Mr. Terrant's?"

"Not exactly, but I AM trying to clear him. Can you help?"

"Well—" she looked at the closed door nervously. "There's something I can tell you. But please don't quote me, because it may violate lawyer-client confidentiality, and the legal profession may kick my ass if they find out."

Joan was somewhat amused at the sudden shift from legal phrasing to slang. "I'll try to help cover your ass."

"OK. Yesterday, Mr. Terrant called to ask if there was a legal way to get that horsewoman off the sidewalk. I took the call. While I was talking, I heard all that rock music blare out in the background. But it was BACKGROUND."

"You mean--?"

"Yeah. Mr. Terrant isn't likely to have turned on the noise while starting a phone call. I'm sorry the horse got spooked and bucked the girl off its back, _but it was somebody else's fault."_

TO BE CONTINUED.


	4. On Everybody's Bad Side

**WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?**

**Chapter 4 On Everybody's Bad Side**

Adam was still in class when Joan left the lawyer's building. She decided she might as well start off on the next step, and she got out her cell phone.

"Elizabeth here."

"This is Joan. Can we meet?"

"I'm busy setting up the protest, but you can join us. We're at the Glob Theatre."

"Coming."

A few weeks earlier, Joan, Elizabeth, and Agnes had been acted in a play at the theater, so Joan needed no directions. When she got inside, she saw Elizabeth up on the stage with at least half a dozen other students. She recognized two more actors from the play: Robin, the engineering student who had played the philosopher Plato, and Philip, who had played Pygmalion. Everyone was busy painting signs for the protest. Joan was appalled that it had gotten this far.

"Elizabeth, you've got to call off this protest. Mr. Terrant didn't do it."

Elizabeth looked puzzled. "How do you know?"

"Because—" Joan stopped herself. She had promised the receptionist she wouldn't repeat the story of the phone call. "I just do."

"Oh, so we're to stop this because you just have a feeling."

"Um – yeah," mumbled Joan, wishing she had planned this better.

"Don't you care what happened to Agnes?"

"Yes, but—"

"But you have a feeling. Crazy Joan!"

"What?!" Joan cried in surprise. Not at the phrase, which she had heard numerous times before, but at it being uttered here in college.

"Yeah, I remember how you were in high school, always picking up and dropping projects on whims. Cheerleading. Chess club. Dating the school bully. The musical. The annual. That gay girl who got killed in the drug deal."

"Don't you dare diss Judith!"

"I felt sorry for you at the time, because I thought it was that illness," said Elizabeth. "But that was more than two years ago, and you're STILL acting on whims. Grow up, Joan."

"You've done crazy things too," said Joan, losing her temper. Part of her anger was at God and at the receptionist, for putting her in an awkward position where she could not explain her actions, but at the moment it was directed against Elizabeth. "Remember the day you posed nude for Adam? Then you got in an argument and marched out of the studio without your clothes on, right into February weather. Did I ever mention what a big ass you've got under those jeans?"

Elizabeth turned red. "I was trying to help your boyfriend! Because after two years YOU were still too shy to let him paint your boobs!"

"Girls! Girls! Stop it!" shouted Robin.

Joan looked around herself in dismay. She had gotten so focused on Elizabeth that she had forgotten the presence of an audience. A few looked amused; most, particularly the ones she had met during the play, looked embarrassed at the two friends slanging away.

And Joan had definitely gotten the worst of the argument. Anybody could understand Elizabeth's situation, getting flustered at being seen naked. And the description of her rear end, while accurate, had been a low blow. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had just recited all the embarrassments of Joan's high school career, things that Joan had hoped to leave behind her. And she STILL couldn't explain about the missions.

Philip gestured at a couple of unpainted signs. "Why don't you join us, Joan?" Offering an opportunity to change the subject and restore the old relationships.

"I – I can't. Bye." Joan left the theater, realizing that she needed to think through things before she spoke to Elizabeth any further. But it looked like slinking away after a defeat.

She calmed down a bit during her afternoon math class. Math was far from her best subject, but she had discovered two years ago, while recovering from Lyme Disease, that it was sometimes pleasant to contemplate a subject that was immune from human passions and bewildering divine commands. You had a problem, and if you applied the right rule you could solve it. Not like the real world.

When she called her husband on her cell phone, he said that he was going to work on a project at his studio this evening. Probably, like Joan and the math, his art was a way of retreating away from the messy arguments involving most of their friends.

About 5:00 it occurred to her to pay a call on Mr. Terrant at home; the lawyer should have told him by now that Joan was trying to help him. She reached the residence about 5:30, and rang the bell.

The ring was answered by a girl, roughly twelve years old and in a very sulky mood. "Yeah?"

Joan was not very good with girls of that age range; she remembered trying to deal with Debbie O'Brien a few months ago. "Hi. I'm Joan Girardi-Rove---"

"So?"

"I'm a freshman in college, I know Agnes Mertz."

"So you're one of those bitches interfering with our business."

Joan winced. "I want to help—"

"Then tell your idiot friend that next time she wants to use a horse in a protest, she needs to learn how to stay on it. My Dad had a lot of money riding on a deal, to bring development to the town, and it got all screwed up because some bimbo wants to ride horses. Too bad she didn't land on a pile of horse s***; it might have broken her fall."

"Could I speak to your father?" Joan said desperately.

"He's not home yet. Go away." The girl slammed the door.

Joan turned around and walked home. She had had enough encounters for one day.

Adam came home around 8:00 and, by common consent, neither of them talked about the Agnes vs Mr. Terrant ordeal. Instead, Joan played a DVD she had ordered a few days ago, about some girls who shared a seemingly magic pair of jeans. She sort of identified with one of the girls, who lost a young friend to a fatal disease, just as Joan had lost Rocky three years ago.

Toward the end they heard a knock on the door, and since it was nearly 9:00, and she was a policeman's daughter, Joan took the precaution of looking through the peephole.

Mr. Terrant and his foul-mouthed daughter.

TO BE CONTINUED.

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The story about Elizabeth's attempt to pose nude for Adam is from an earlier story, TO THE FAIREST) _

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Debbie O'Brien is from another story, ANOTHER JOAN; a younger girl who is being prepared by God to go on missions like Joan.) _

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Joan's DVD is SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELLING PANTS, co-starring Amber Tamblyn)_


	5. The Inside Scoop

**WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?**

**Chapter 5 The Inside Scoop**

Joan didn't really want to talk to this pair, but it seemed to be part of the mission, so she let them in.

Mr. Terrant seemed tired and glum, no longer like The Heavy. He nudged his daughter. "Katie, apologize for being rude to the lady."

"I apologize for being rude lady," said Katie rather mechanically.

"Katie--!" began the father in exasperation, but Joan, not wanting to listen to an argument for the second time this day, said hastily: "Apology accepted."

Mr. Terrant looked relieved, but also seemed to feel that nothing else was gained by keeping his daughter here. "Katie, wait in the car."

"Yes, Dad."

The girl went out, and Mr. Terrant still at a loss as for what to do next. _Time to go outside the box, _thought Joan_, or this will go on forever_. Taking a big guess, Joan ventured:

"It was Katie who frightened the horse, wasn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it," said the father.

It was Joan's turn to be exasperated. "No, nobody does. And the few who do talk about it don't want to be quoted. See, the thing is that a little thrashing out might clear up this entire situation!"

Mr. Terrant stared at Joan a long time, as if trying to size her up. Finally he said: "There's an air about you. I think I can level with you, and trust you not to abuse the information."

"You can definitely trust Jane," assured Adam, who was of course rather biased on the subject.

Joan fetched some soda for the three to drink – it served that potty-mouthed girl right if she was missing out on the service -- and they sat down. She wondered if God had done something to make her look good to the visitor, or whether she really did project an air of dependability nowadays. She definitely hadn't in high school.

"Okay," said Mr. Terrant. "To start with, this isn't the best town to do real estate. Property that would ordinarily change hands often gets bought by the college for later expansion, and in the meantime they rent it out. Perfectly logical from the school's point of view, but not good for my business. Some time ago I had to stop employing a receptionist, and started using Katie part time in the office after school." He thought a minute. "Did your parents discuss family money matters with you when you were growing up?"

"Not really," said Joan. "During the biggest problem, I was recovering from a serious illness. They didn't want to worry me."

"My Dad did," said Adam.

"Well, Katie learned pretty soon that the deal with Axme Corporation, buying the farmland, was crucial to us. When I saw the protesters outside, disrupting a perfectly legitimate transaction, I was furious, but I knew the situation had to be handled carefully. Any mistake and I could be in legal trouble, or raise public opposition. First I tried to negotiate with that girl on the horse, who wouldn't listen. Then I called my lawyer to find if there was a legal way to get them off the sidewalk. But Katie decided to do something more aggressive. She would drown out the speechmaking by turning on the radio with the loudest rock station she knew of. She didn't know much about horses; didn't know that they could be spooked by sudden loud noises."

"I can understand that," said Joan. "I made the mistake of trying to ride a horse without any training, a few months ago. It ran away with me, and I never did figure out why. So Agnes's falling off was a pure accident?"

"Yes – though Katie has been reluctant to own up to her mistake, and has tried to convince herself that it was all the girl's fault."

"Actions can have bad ripples that we can't predict," said Adam. "And the younger we are, the less experience we have with making judgments . Just a couple of years ago I – well, never mind that. It seems to me, Mr. Terrant, that if you explain this to other people as you explained it to us, people would understand. Nobody intended any harm; it was just a matter of poor judgment."

"No! I'm not going to expose my daughter to public ridicule or criticism. And I demand that you not betray what I have confided in you. Do you promise?"

"I – I promise," Joan said reluctantly.

"So do I," said Adam.

"Thank you. Stay aside and let us handle the problem ourselves, please." He put down the soda, got up and started for the door.

"Um – pardon me for being nosy – but I've got a question," said Joan. "Why did you set up in real estate here, if there wasn't much market for it?"

Mr. Terrant sighed. "My wife grew up here, didn't want to leave. I loved her."

Joan realized that the bald, middle-aged guy in front of them had once been a sentimental young man, perhaps as much in love as Joan and Adam. And someday, if luck went wrong, they could end up in unhappy middle-age themselves. Joan remembered a literary quote from her bookstore: _there but for the grace of God go I._ But was God going to guide them?

"What a mess," moaned Joan once he had left. "God wants us to intervene, Mr. Terrant wants us to stay aside, and it's nobody's fault."

"Which is why God wanted us to prevent the confrontation in the first place," said Adam.

"Well, we can't undo that. Now what?"

" Maybe God intended this as a lesson for us, that sometimes problems simply don't have a good solution."

"Maybe. But we can't rely on that and cop out. Elizabeth has organized a protest tomorrow, to demand that Mr. Terrant pay the medical bills. I guess we attend, and we improvise." Joan shrugged, knowing that it wasn't the best solution, but their only solution at the moment.

"Yeah, since that's worked so well so far ---"

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. All the Sides of the Story

**WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?**

**Chapter 6 All the Sides of the Story**

As Adam reached the site of the realtor's office the next day, his heart sank. He had hoped that Elizabeth had reconsidered the new protest, that maybe God had found a way to stop the girl and her friends without the Roves' help. But no, the protestors – including several of Adam's best friends at the college – were marching up and down the sidewalk. One had a sign saying PAY FOR YOUR DAMAGE, another said GET REAL, REALTOR.

The good news was that there was no horse this time. The bad news was that Adam couldn't see Jane. She had promised to meet him here, even though she had a class just before this.

"Get outta here!" yelled a shrill but familiar voice. Katie Terrant was standing in front of the office entrance.

"Ignore her," commanded Elizabeth. Everyone complied.

"I said get outta here! Bitches and bastards!"

The protestors turned angrily toward her at the insults, but Elizabeth held up her free hand. "Wait! Go inside, little girl. This isn't about you."

"DON'T CALL ME A LITTLE GIRL!"

"All right, sorry. But this is between your father and us. Go inside and send him out."

"He ain't here, and what affects Dad affects me."

That floored Elizabeth, who presumably was wondering the point of a protest where the protestee wasn't even there. Her silence gave an opening to a newcomer.

"Wait!"

Adam turned and saw a weird sight; instinctively he thought of turning it into a picture. Agnes was sitting in a wheelchair, her head in bandages, and hanging onto the armrests for dear life. The reason she was hanging on was that Jane was behind the wheelchair, pushing it as fast as it would go. It looked dangerous, but Jane must know what she was doing; her brother had been wheelchair-bound for more than three years.

Jane reached the protest line and stopped, leaving Agnes looking relieved. "Hey! Hey!" called out the injured girl. "I've got something to say."

Her voice wasn't carrying strongly, but everybody stopped to listen.

"I don't remember the details of the accident very well; my doctors said that's normal for head trauma. But one thing I do remember is: I wasn't seated very securely on the horse. I don't have that much experience riding, and that sign was throwing me off balance. I should have had the sense to get off. So falling off was at least as much my fault as it was Mr. Terrant's."

It was as Adam had noted, minutes before the accident. But now Agnes was admitting it.

"It wasn't my Dad's fault at all!" yelled Katie.

"What do you mean?" Jane asked calmly.

Katie looked terrified at what she had blurted out, but there was obviously only one way she could follow up. "It – it was ME."

"You?" echoed Elizabeth.

"Yes. My Dad was on the phone – I turned the radio to drown your speech out, I didn't think—"

"But why didn't your Dad say so?" asked Elizabeth.

"He was protecting me! He loves me!"

The protestors stared at each other, then threw their obsolete signs down. Meanwhile Jane took a cell phone out of her pocket and handed it to Agnes. "Katie, could you tell us how to reach your Dad? I think he and Agnes need to have a nice talk---"

As Adam and his wife returned to their apartment house that evening, they found nearly the whole drama club standing in front in the cold, Elizabeth at the head of the group.

"I don't want to renew the argument," Jane said wearily.

"Neither do I," said Elizabeth. "I don't know how you did it, Joan, but you were right all along, with your 'feeling'. Agnes and Mr. Terrant came to a compromise, just split the medical costs, which they might have done earlier if we hadn't created all the fuss. We all agreed to keep the Katie girl's confession secret so it won't end up on any records. I'm sorry, Joan. And I wanted to say that in front of everybody who was there when we had that catfight."

"What about all that stuff you dredged up about me in high school?" demanded Jane angrily. "I'm still mad about that."

"Um, yeah," said Elizabeth. She turned to the drama club. "Yeah, Joan did some crazy things in high school. But the really crazy thing was, they all worked out. The cheerleader gig, that ended up solving a scandal about an abandoned baby. And dating the class bully turned out to get him arrested. And that gay girl – I'm not sure what that was about, but at least it meant the poor thing had a friend with her when she died." She turned back to Jane. "I don't know how you did it, how you kept doing it, but you did."

Jane was suddenly pensive, and Adam was worried. How was his wife going to explain things without bringing God into it?

"Crazy was the wrong word to use," said one member of the club. "I think I know a quote that's appropriate. Thoreau said 'If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.' "

Adam sighed in relief. As long as people didn't demand to know who the other drummer was, their secret was safe. And the interruption apparently gave his wife time to think of something else to say.

"I have some things to take back, too," said Jane. "Elizabeth, your ass isn't THAT big."

Everybody burst out laughing, and the ice was broken. Ironically, a chill wind blew in at exactly that point, and that gave Adam another idea.

"Why don't all you guys come into our apartment out of the cold? It'll be crowded, but we'll warm up all the quicker."

"Cool idea," said Jane, "I mean – oh, you know what I mean. I'll go unlock the door."

She went in, with the rest of club following her. Adam decided to bring up the rear, but just as he was about to go in, he was startled by a whinnying sound.

Turning around, he saw Cowgirl God, sitting on Her horse as usual. He walked up to the divine visitor in order to talk softly. "Don't fall off the horse," he advised.

She smiled. "Don't worry. Unlike Agnes, I have Perfect balance."

"Did we do things right this time?"

"It might have been simpler if you had blocked the original protest, but don't worry, you made it good."

"The rights and wrongs were so confusing."

"They often are, Adam. But what turned out to be right?"

"It was Jane that figured it out," said Adam. "That both sides were wrong. That we shouldn't choose sides, but think outside the box. And we have to risk alienating both sides in the process."

God nodded. "Your college friends are intelligent, but it is difficult for them to empathize with a middle-aged man who is trying to run a small business, or who might lie to protect a beloved child. Nor could a financially strapped family understand how to deal with ardent, idealistic young people. The situation required somebody who could transcend 'side'. And your learning that was at least as important as the actual resolution." She picked up the reins.

"Um, can you tell us when you'll be back?"

"No. As Gandalf said in LORD IN THE RINGS, expect me when you see me."

"But I know we'll see you," said Adam, "because there's always a next crisis."

"Yes. But be proud that you solved this one."

God smiled again, and Adam thought it took something awesome to make God smile. Then She gave her usual wave and rode off. Presumably she was going back to heaven, now that everything was all right with the world.

THE END

_(Author's Note: I appended the conversation between Adam and Cowgirl God in response to a review)_


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